


miss me a little

by orphan_account



Series: stray (fake chop) [17]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, FakeChop, M/M, Secret Santa, fc au where they have powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: maybe running assholes off the road isn't the best business practicesorbrett will always save him. right?
Relationships: Brett Hundley/Aleksandr Vitalyevich Marchant
Series: stray (fake chop) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/756327
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	miss me a little

He doesn’t exactly know how, but the cammy’s lost a tail light. Aleks just assumes it must’ve been shot out a few miles back from that freak with the lightning powers, the one that owes him money that he ran off the road. What an asshole. It’s gonna cost him like, a grand or something to fix it. He has the money, but that’s not the point. Aleks doesn’t go around setting people on fire because he’s annoyed or something. Or, you know. Maybe he does, but still, this is his car. Rude fucking people.

Aleks rubs a hand through his freshly shorn hair, head tilted up to look at the stars, just barely peeking through the neon hotspot of the city. He could make it back home, sure, but what if he gets pulled over or something? Aleks is just not in the mood for that, though he’s really not in the mood for anything. Tonight’s been shitty enough. He just kicks the tire of the Camaro, climbing back into the driver’s side and looking at his phone. There’s a few texts from James that mention him being a piece of shit and an impulsive asshole, yadda yadda, the usual. Then there’s one from Brett.

_james told me you’re chasing a guy out in death valley. don’t go nuclear. i won’t be there to pick up the pieces. if you fuck up, don’t bother coming home._

Aleks frowns. Brett could be a little nicer about telling him to fuck off; last time wasn’t that bad. He survived, Brett survived, James survived. What did it matter if others died?

He just sighs, leaning against the trunk of the Camaro and looking down at his phone. Does he even try to bother with a response? Aleks has little time to think, looking up as the stillness of the desert starts to pick up and whip into noise, the ever familiar sound of an engine. A motorcycle engine, like the one the guy he ran off the road. Oh, shit. Aleks has no time to think of anything but flee, running like a fool from his car as the bike just clips the right side of the back end, sending the rider and bike scattering across the sand.

Shit. Brett’s going to fucking kill him.

Aleks hides behind a small dune, fumbling with his gun as he listens to the guy shrieking curses and threats into the night sky. He doesn’t know what the guy’s more pissed about; his probably wrecked bike or Aleks. Honestly, Aleks would be more pissed at him, too. He clicks the magazine into the pistol, trying to even his breathing out before he peeks from behind the dune. A sharp crackle brings his hair on end and a bolt just barely misses him, bouncing off the sand and skidding through it before the desert air swallows the lightning up. Fuck, this dude is really livid.

No time for guns, Aleks guesses.

The blond sticks it back into the waistband of his joggers, listening to the impending footsteps of the bike man coming closer and closer. The sand muffles his steps but they’re still frantic enough that he’ll be on Aleks in seconds and he has no fucking plan. Idiot. Absolute idiot, that’s what he was. James was right. Brett was right.

So he gets to his feet to try and surprise the guy and manages, stumbling over the dune and tackling him into the dirt. They grapple for dominance before Aleks sends a swift punch to the guy’s jaw. Misses by a few inches, smacks his ear instead, but it’s enough to make the guy howl. It doesn’t disorient him as much as Aleks wishes it did because a hand clasps around his shoulder, tightens, and Aleks is on _fire_. The pain shrieks through his shoulder and chest, nerves like a livewire as he falls onto his side, stunned into paralysis for the moment.

“That’s what you fucking get, you ugly cunt,” The guy spits onto the sand, getting to his feet and standing over Aleks, “the fuck you think you are? Tony Soprano, you dumb bitch? You really thought you’d get away with it?”

He’s gaining feeling back in his fingers, then in his hands, wrists, left arm, toes. Aleks exhales through his nose, eyes shining with tears from the pain. “You’re… one to talk,” He manages, though each word struggles out of him, “stealing from people. Didn’t your mother raise you better?”

The guy laughs, almost a startled sound, as if he didn’t expect Aleks to fight back. Too bad for him. Aleks spits out blood, staggering slowly to his feet. He stumbles briefly before digging his feet into the sand, chest heaving. He can’t see out of one eye but he’s pretty sure the guy looks surprised. At least, Aleks hopes he looks surprised. “If you just didn’t think you were so slick to steal money from me, I wouldn’t have had to drive you off the road.”

The guy scoffs. “You’re nothing.”

“Sure I am,” Aleks coughs out, wipes his mouth and smears blood across his cheek as he does so, “watch this nothing kill you.”

He sucks in a breath, choking on it almost, and tightens a bruised and bloodied fist at his side.His hand ignites and the blue hot licks up his arm, sets his right shoulder screaming again. Aleks grits his teeth, pushes through the pain, and charges the man in front of him.

* * *

When he comes to, it’s dark out. Darker than normal.

His brain quietly supplies that he must be at Brett’s, because only weirdos have blackout curtains and Brett, Brett’s a certified weirdo. The only one Aleks knows, at least.

He goes to sit up but a strong hand dead square in his chest pushes him back down. Huh. Weirdo’s here with him.

“I thought you weren’t coming for me,” It hurts to talk, his mouth is so damn dry.

“You lit up half the city,” Brett’s voice is warm and growly, the kind of voice he has when he’s trying to stay asleep, “I couldn’t not. All I could see was you.”

Yeah. Aleks has the tendency to do that. Still, that doesn’t mean anything. There’s other people out there, with his kind of power. Or. Surely, there has to be, right? “Uh, sure. So, like… what?”

“I don’t know. I’m lucky I managed to get you without any issue. Camaro’s melted. There was a bike. A silhouette of another guy. I guess that was your thug buddy,” Brett yawns, hand flexing on Aleks’ chest as his shoulders roll, “and you, passed the fuck out like a bloodied baby. I’m done taking care of you, Aleksandr. This isn’t how this should happen.”

A lot of things aren’t supposed to happen. Aleks shouldn’t be alive after all the times he has gone nuclear on some thug that owes him cash, but still. It’s not like he’s going to stop anytime soon. Him and Brett both know that.“So, uh, how long was I out?”

“Three days,” Brett’s shifting around, hand finally leaving Aleks’ chest, “but you’re alive, so I guess that’s good.”

Yeah. Aleks guesses that’s good, too. “... so what now, Brett?”

“Let me sleep.”

Aleks laughs. Okay, he can do that. More sleep actually sounds pretty dope despite being knocked out for three days. He shifts to curl against Brett’s back, forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. The man tenses and Aleks thinks, maybe, Brett will tell him to fuck off, get out of bed, you’re not wanted here anymore, but instead he just sighs, body going almost limp from the eternal exhaustion of Aleksandr.

* * *

Aleks returns to the land of living with the smell of food, eyes blinking slowly as his body and brain start cranking gears. He yawns and rolls onto his back, staring up at the barely lit ceiling of Brett’s room. Fucking blackout curtains, really. Disorients the hell out of him. He just manages to drag himself to the bathroom to check his body in the tiny mirror above Brett’s even tinier sink. His face looks the same, dark circles and all, but there’s a new addition on his body. Starting at his right shoulder and dragging itself over his chest is a red hot pattern of lines and tiny points coming off of them, like a tree with all these baby branches and even babier branches coming off of those.

Shit. Maybe he went a little too nuclear.

Aleks runs his hands over the marks, frowning. They don’t hurt, but it certainly fucks up his tattoos. At least it kind of looks like one itself, but it would have been a lot cooler if it wasn’t ruining his chest piece. He paid a lot of money for that, man. Aleks just scrubs his face and climbs into Brett’s shower, deciding to wash off three days of his tired ass grimy body.

When he gets out, the television is on. Brett hasn’t left him, at least. Aleks rummages through his drawers to find a clean pair of boxers and pants, tying the waistband of the joggers as tight as they go so they don’t droop with every step. He finds Brett settled into a side of the couch, feet on the coffee table and an empty plate besides it of food. Damn. Could’ve left the almost dead dude some.

“Awake?”

“What’s this thing on my chest?”

“Oh,” Brett’s head turns slightly, as if he’s pretending to look at Aleks, but the blond knows he’s more engrossed in his show, “you came with that, after I cleaned you up. It looks like a lightning strike.”

Fuck. That dude is dead and still ruining his life. “It ruined my chest piece, man.”

“That’s your concern? Your tattoo?” Brett’s looking at him for real now, disappointment plastered all over his face, “you could’ve died, Sasha.”

Aleks winces. Aleksandr doesn’t even sting as bad as that does. “Yeah, I… I know. It’s fine, though,” He tries to give Brett a thumbs up. Brett just shakes his head and looks back at the television, “look, come on. It’ll be cool. I won’t chase people down anymore. Swear.”

Brett snorts. “Wasn’t born yesterday.”

Man. “I wish you were.”

“Yeah, me too. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with cleaning up after you.”

“If I really did what you said I did, there isn’t much to clean up,” Another failed joke by the way Brett’s shoulders tense. Shit. Aleks really isn’t good at this, “it sent a message, anyways. I’ll get my money from his buddies. They’re all chickenshit mortals.”

“Unless they come back to beat your ass ten times harder with hired thugs.”

Yeah. They could do that. “But they’ll have to get through you, right?” Aleks moves to sit on the couch, trying to schmooze up on Brett, scooting close to him and batting his tired eyes, “right, my knight in shining armor?”

Brett grimaces. “Talk that out with James. He’s your partner.”

If James will talk to him. Aleks just wraps his arms around one of Brett’s, staring at the television as he tucks his legs against him. “... I’m sorry,” He tries, wondering if he should explain what he’s sorry for. His life. Getting Brett involved. Constantly melting down and making Brett pick up the pieces?

“You always are,” Brett says softly, a hand reaching up to sink fingers into the damp mess of Aleks’ hair, “just let things go.”

Just let things go. Like Aleks knows how to let anything fucking go in his life. Instead, he just closes his eyes as he gets as close as he can to Brett. Next time really might be the last time Brett helps him out. This time may be the last time. Maybe three times ago was the last time. He doesn’t know anymore, but right now, Brett’s here.

Aleks can be good.

**Author's Note:**

> cc secret santa gift for talented-headache. i actually had a powers au in the making, but i never really got past aleks being a pyro. i hope this scratched your itch a tiny bit!


End file.
